


The (Mis)Adventures of a Good Mormon Boy Going Bad

by demonista



Series: Brendon Urie: Fanfic Tropes and Cliches Reimagined [2]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Bullying, Cunnilingus, Dream Sex, F/M, Frottage, High School, Homophobia, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Male Entitlement, Masturbation, Misogyny, Mormonism, Multi, Oral Sex, Outercourse, PIV, Porn Watching, Pornography, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Sex Dreams, Sex Education, Sexism, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Politics, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tribadism, Wet Dream, but only on the level of the student fantasizing, male violence, performative sexuality, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-06-09 16:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15271929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonista/pseuds/demonista
Summary: Brendon is 15 years old, sexually confused but very curious, and wants to be a good mormon. Warning for pornography, violent bullying, homophobia, misogyny, religious guilt, and a lot of sexual content. Sometimes, B describes things in a way I wouldn't but I wanted to keep it from his pov although it is 3rd person (eg the "just like regular people" line--women in porn are regular people--I don't think he dehumanizes them but he does see *some* distance--not quite regular people, just close to it--but sees some parallels between him and them too re: male judgement, violence, etc. He also sees piv and sex as synonymous--but we're going to work on that and I think he already is thanks in part to Eric ;) )Later becomes readerxb





	1. Chapter 1

Brendon has been wondering about God, sin, afterlife and resurrection, where he'd end up... He's not sure what he believes, and he doesn't want languish in spirit prison for a thousand years, or end up in the telestial kingdom, separated from his family, and especially not outer darkness. When his doubts get heavy he feels so guilty. When he has...certain thoughts and dreams he feels guilty. Especially the ones about boys: those were so wrong other religions and even nonreligious guys thought it was wrong. 

Sometimes he can't stop himself from touching himself, but he usually manages to stop before...it happens. Other times, he rushes towards that cliff, pleasure bursting through him, spurting on himself or the sheets or letting it wash away in the shower. He prays to god to give him the strength to stop doing that, and having wet dreams. Holy crap, the wet dreams: things he's never even seen before. He thinks and dreams a lot about seeing a girl naked, getting to touch her all over, especially between her legs, his mouth on her too, licking and kissing her...there... Her touching him back...getting on top of him and...oh God. 

He doesn't really know what to do, what can be done, but he hears guys talk, usually about touching breasts and fingering when it's what they do to girls. He'd love to see what girls look like there, and he wonders if girls masturbate too and how. Some guys have said girls stick things or their fingers inside, but Eric said girls have clits, so he is confused--is it inside or somewhere else? What does it look like? He saw part of this one soft core at Jimmy's late at night channel surfing while eating cookies after he woke up during their sleepover, but they never actually showed between her legs. He probably wouldn't have been able to look without praying for hours each day a week. He barely managed to see what he saw without praying for days afterwards (just during and the next morning). 

In the locker room sometimes, boys have magazines, tiny pictures on cell phones, printed photos, and Brendon tried to say no, but after the third time, they really started teasing him, the air thick with it, especially that one word. The word always scares him, makes his heart pound and legs ready to bolt, because usually that's the word that comes before punches and kicks or at least being shoved against a wall or lockers or tripped. A couple times (a few times) he snuck looks at some boys when they were changing or in the shower, and he needs them to not pay any more attention to him in case they find out. If he thinks the bullying was bad before... So he looks, but tries not to too much, just getting glaces at down there, mostly looking at everywhere else. He bets they'd look even prettier without make up. 

He still gets all blushy and hot, and hard, when their nipples are hard and those pink or red or brown folds down there are spread open. Just seeing the hair down there excites him too, and he lets himself look a lot then. It looks so pettable. He bets the skin is soft and kind of squishy too. Inside it looks raw but really pretty, like it takes getting used to, but better than dicks...flowers, or lips almost, different sizes and colours, and he wonders if the skin there feels like his dick skin does. What they'd feel like on his lips. If touching them feels good, can make them come, or if you have to put your fingers or dick or something inside. Most of them have such little holes too when he even sees it, and how on earth does a baby comes out of it? Sometimes they're touching different parts of it, with long nailed fingers, or putting them or a dildo in, so they touch both ways, but does one feel better? He hopes they're coming any way they can. He likes those better than the ones where they are doing things with others because he feels bad about looking at them then, because it's more sinful and by themselves it's just nakedness, sometimes touching themselves, when everyone is born naked. 

He wonders if they feel like he does when he let's himself touch himself. He hopes everything feels as good for them as it seems. Sometimes he notices that they look really dry there, and other boys have said that girls get wet when they're turned on. Something like Vaseline or spit feels even better for him, and some other guys use those or something else too. Oh Lord, he could lick his hand and rub them with it, suck on his fingers and put them in. Lick them there too, get lots of saliva on them. Women together did a lot of that, way more than a man with a woman. And he'd even seen other pictures of women rubbing together...pussy (such a bad word but he has to admit he likes it) to pussy, and on the other's thigh, but he'd never seen a girl rub on a guy like that. He'd like to try that too--wonders how it'd feel, even on his thigh. He bets it'd feel close to as good as if he was actually inside if she was just rubbing those lip things on him, everything wet. Why wouldn't a guy want to do everything that felt good? But most made it sound like actual sex was not only the best, but other things didn't really matter, except maybe getting your dick sucked. Other guys did like other things too, but they still wanted actual sex mostly. 

Except Eric. He had a girlfriend Amanda, both seventeen, and neither had gone all the way, but had done other things and he was the only boy Brendon had ever heard talk about going down on a girl as something good. Most guys didn't do it or didn't talk about doing it, a couple made jokes about it, or only did it to get it in return, like 69ing--whatever that was, but he guessed it was taking turns? Eric had done it for her a few times before she ever did it back to him, but he didn't sound mad about it. He still did it more than she did. But Eric was grinny at that because she would come more than once when they were together, three or four times usually, and Brendon could tell he liked making her feel good, a lot, both by mouth and hand. Or her touching herself--they'd even masturbate together, and Brendon had never heard of a girl and a guy doing that together. Not even in the porn he'd seen, but he hadn't seen that much. He was always too embarrassed and hard to ask Eric to go into details beyond what he volunteered--like what she looked like when she did, her face and body, and vagina. If she sounded like they did in porn. He had only met Amanda a few times and she was shier than he, almost as anxious, and nice. He liked her. He wished he was brave enough to ask what other things they did--like if she had rubbed her pussy on him, where, what it felt like, if they could both come like that, rubbing or pressed together like he sometimes thought of. He kind of like-likes her, and Eric too. He doesn't like thinking about the latter. 

Eric sometimes seems flirty with him, winking, touching him when he doesn't need to--his back, arm, hand, even asked him about what he's done, not making him feel bad about only masturbating--he didn't tell him about all his crazy dreams and thoughts--even joking about how they could show each other once when Eric was high on pot. At least he figured he must be joking, wishing he wasn't too scared of going against his religion to smoke up too because the suggestion sent him into a panic. It throws him off partly because Eric likes girls, differently--more and better--than most boys their age, especially Amanda. And only girls can like both, right? Boys can't--they are one or the other--but a lot of girls are bi. He does like girls a lot too, but some of his dreams, and even some thoughts when he's touching himself--he doesn't like thinking about it. Why bother with something that's so wrong, or impossible? 

The guys talk about the girls in porn as if they're sexy and they want to do things to them, but like that fact makes them kind of...bad; bad in a way that they aren't, like it makes them trashy or slutty or whores. As if sluts and whores are bad, and they're just being boys. But he doesn't think they're bad; he bets they're just like regular people. When the discussion gets even worse it makes him think the boys are the bad ones. The boys who call him a faggot call them whores and he's not sure if him and them are those things or not, and if being that is a bad thing or not--like being a faggot is pretty bad, but why was it so bad? Religious or not, they talked about girl on girl but a boy liking a boy was The Worst. They seem to want them to be whores and sluts, but they definitely do not want him to be a faggot. Brendon thinks he is bad sometimes, especially when he thinks about how he's failing God.


	2. Chapter 2

He usually doesn't get too upset about it all, considering his anxiety. But, this one time, he has a dream that wasn't like others he'd had. He'd dreamt about boys sometimes, usually him and another boy kissing, touching. Usually someone made up, like his dreams about girls, but he'd dreamt about Eric that way twice and a few girls he knew, including his friends Brittany and Jen. Not to mention Jessica Alba; he had such a crush on her. Usually he'd come in those just from kissing her for a while, or seeing her naked and getting to touch her, or her naked skin on top of his, moving against him, as they kissed. With boys, if they were clothed, they'd undo the others jeans and take it out, jacking until... Or rolling around on a bed naked, until they jerked each other off, or sometimes he'd come just from pressing together, maybe rubbing their dicks together. If he let himself think like that long enough while he was awake, touching himself...oh God. He usually didn't let himself think like that about boys. He felt way more guilt about them...not sure if he agreed with why, but it often hit him, and hard, anyway.

Tonight, it was Jessica and this other guy Jensen Ackles--they were both in this show Dark Angel that he and his sister Kyla often watched. He was shyly watching them as they made out in his dream, her straddling him as he got her undressed, then she him and Brendon wanted to come so bad, felt close just from looking. She got down on her knees and--oh Jesus--sucked his dick and he couldn't stop looking, watching Jensen's face as he looked so blissed out. He didn't know if he'd rather be him or be sucking him, and if he were awake that'd make him feel shame, but in the moment he just felt so turned on. She pops off him and crawls onto the bed, spreading her legs, and he dives in and Brendon can hear it, similar to how he heard her sucking him, wet heat on wet heat... Even that thought... She's making these noises, like in the movie he saw. In the movie, after a while, they switched to sex that he think was faked (he's not sure), but in his dream, she calls out for Brendon to join them, that he shouldn't worry because they'll take it slow with him. Jensen pulls away from her and she crawls over, holding out her hand and how could he not? She kisses him, bringing him onto the bed, and his clothes are suddenly gone. Fuck, Jensen is kissing him. His lips are almost as full as theirs, and wet with her. It tastes like those watermelon candies for some reason. He doesn't think girls would smell or taste like bad fish like some guys have said--they definitely taste like something good. 

Jensen's dick is a lot bigger than his--he's fifteen and barely four inches--but Jessica just smiles and wraps her wet hand around him. He wonders if it's spit or that taste. He hopes it's her. She kisses him, and he wants to touch her back so bad, touches over the hair first, and she asks "ready, baby?" as Jensen guides his hand between her legs. She is so wet, and she's moaning into his mouth. "Want to touch him too, hon?" He can't stop his yes. Jensen pulls his hand away, but to bring his other in instead, both his hands now wet with her. He wants to lick them. Is this how wet girls get or is he just getting it all wrong, because it's like spit, lots and lots of spit, and really dripping. Jensen kisses him again, and Brendon squeezes him, thicker than him too. Both kissing him back and forth and over his face, neck, shoulder, guiding his hand on them, because no way could he be co-ordinated with so much sexiness! In real life, he totally would've come already, if he managed to do this in the first place. 

Holy crap, and now she's jacking him again, Jensen's hand on his balls, jostling and rubbing like he does sometimes to himself. Jensen slides a finger further back, the strip under his balls, other hand's fingertips brushing over his leaking tip as Jessica sighs "your mouth..." and Jensen adds "Think both our mouths were made to suck--" He comes so hard he wakes himself up, moaning, feeling so fucking good, reveling in the jizzed up sheets, running over his thighs and softening junk and pelvis, a wicked sinner but it's so fun, coming and making others come, his mouth made for making people feel good, wishing he could taste her, even him... It doesn't last: the guilt hits, and he's panicking, scrambling up to change the sheets. He gets on his knees, prays to god that he doesn't have these dreams and thoughts, he's a good boy, a good straight boy, he really is, please god, he won't act on these dreams and thoughts he swears. He wouldn't.


	3. Chapter 3

Brendon keeps his thoughts in check, if not his dreams, for the next couple months, and then his mom signs the damned permission slip for 10th grade sex ed.

Jesus. He can feel himself popping a boner just from the vulva diagram, because it gets him wondering what the girls in class look like, wondering if there is any way to guess what their hair, inner and outer lips, clitoris and opening look like. Do their vulvas look different based on height or weight or race or age or is it more like how hair and eyes can be different colours and noses can be different shapes (they are usually related but not necessarily; he sure has lips and a nose more like a black person than a white one). He's seen boys and men be different sizes, even shades, in penises and balls, although some guys are showers and others growers (he's not much of either). Or biggish dicks and normal sized balls, or big balls and small dicks... 

He didn't actually know where the clit was before, but realizes now that he usually could see it in the porn he's seen--sometimes isn't sure where it is-- women can have small ones but big labia. He wants to ask, including asking if the inside, the vagina itself could be different sizes--obviously they could stretch, but when they were just...hanging out, were they all the same, like short and open? He had previously thought it was all vagina but Ms Lowe--she asks them to say it like Mzzz and not Miss--and her diagrams say the inside, leading to the cervix. He can't help wondering what it would feel like, if you can reach the cervix with fingers or a dick. If things would be hot and tight like guys say, swollen and wet and--fuck.

The girls seem awkward about it too, and that helps him stop the more sexual thoughts. Really embarrassed even, like it was something they should be ashamed of, but he didn't think just having that body part should be something shameful, let alone sinful, right? His thoughts about it were sinful, but girls having it couldn't be: it's how any of them were here. Without it, there would be no humanity. Hell, most animals would be gone. He didn't really know how, but it was also how they felt good too, and he wondered if it felt the same way for them as it did when he touched himself or had a wet dream. And oh God, that last thought was bringing the boner back.

Towards the end of class the second day, Ms Lowe stills in her discussion, biting her lip, eyes squinted, then says. "Ok, here goes..." then adding a "hopefully not my job." She asks, "So...would you kids like to go off the books a bit here? Get beyond the birds and the bees, and into--oh God--pleasure?" One guy, Sam, catcalls, making him blush even more. Some students chuckle awkwardly. Aaron, whom Brendon thinks of as Fuckhead or some variation thereof, crudely adds, "Why? You offering?" 

Her face falls, making Brendon's stomach twist. He wishes he were brave enough to say something, tell Aaron to shut the hell up or raise his hand and say "I would." God, he's getting sweaty, and his breathing--he needs to calm down, takes deep breaths, looking down at his desk. "Iris wuz her." Was her what? He giggles, then bites his lip, worried, but it's helping him calm down.

"Aaron, sadly I think these next words might be lost on you," Ms Lowe quips, voice shakey but determined and Brendon smiles as some others snicker.  


Her talk gets--oh boy. Definitely not in their text books. "Class, we're supposed to be taking about puberty, reproductive systems, how babies are made, stds, abstinence, and whatnot, like I've been doing, but--I couldn't help but notice that the clitoris was shown, even named in the book and our training, but nothing was said about it? And it--my heath class was like that too, but with even more scare tactics and shame. And no clit." She laughs softly herself. "I want it to be better for you guys than that, especially the girls here. So let's start off there: first off, sex isn't only, or even mostly, how babies are made. It's about mutual...pleasure and intimacy and--" she continues through the laughter, but Brendon's already feeling too flushed already, not just in his face, to laugh--"and almost indescribable things--joy and love and orgasms and--" She cuts herself off. "Well, you get what I'm getting at."

"Tomorrow I'll show you a diagram of the internal anatomy of the clitoris--save some for later, huh?--but let's go back to the diagram of the vulva." This time she doesn't just name the parts. "So you've probably heard that women and girls get wet when they're aroused. That's sure true. And we can get turned on by thoughts and dreams, and when we touch ourselves--including our vulvas and clitorises--yes most girls and women masturbate too. As well as...doing things with another--them touching us there and other places we find sensitive, like breasts, belly and thighs, neck, even back. Both guys and girls can feel turned on by that." Some of the class chuckle nervously or snort. "No, I mean it. Males can find places other than their penises to be sexy--balls--testicles are probably the most obvious one, but their chests, thighs, all the places that can be arousing for us too. Including their--" she takes a deep breath, as if knowing what the reaction would be-- "bums." 

He can't help thinking of the few--ok, numerous--times he's touched himself back there...between his cheeks...his asshole...pleasure and shame washing over him, cautious strokes over there, his taint, back to his balls, back down. Massaging even, spiting on his fingers or using his own jizz a couple times, and wet felt even better. It made him want to try to push inside a few times, see what that felt like but he was too scared to, knowing that's where his dad and other guys always talked about gay guys...how they had sex. His dad and the church called it sodomy, a sin, other boys usually some variation of fudge packing or ass fucking. Being a fudge packer, like not being "the girl", and giving it was bad, but being fucked in the ass was even worse than being a cocksucker. Probably the worst thing a guy could be. He sometimes thought Eric was...the latter; Eric had even joked about being willing to do it for a couple of his favourite musicians, but he knew Eric liked girls too, especially his girlfriend. Is that what she was hinting at? Or touching the cheeks, like he sometimes touched his thighs and chest?

A few audience cackles and jokes later, she continues. "Something you hear a lot is girls can be too careful with guys--like cautious and nervous and gentle--and guys too firm, even rough. No subtly. This applies doubly with our genitals. So girls, don't be afraid to give him a little squeeze--" the laughter is more easy this time, and she laughs too--"or rub harder." More laughter. "Boys? Go soft, softer than you think you'd need to, especially starting off. Easy. If and when she wants it firmer, she'll let you know. As she gets wetter, use it to help glide..." She trails off, getting nervous again, two fingers poised in the air, takes a deep breath and pushes on. "Over the inner and outer lips, her clit, slide a finger inside if she wants you to. And ask. Everybody ask whenever you're not sure--and even adults aren't sure a lot, especially with someone new. Ask how to touch, where. If this is hard for me to say in front of all of you, it's also difficult with a man my age. Try not to be nervous, and be open, wanting to listen and tell and show. Like one finger or two or three or whole hand. On the clit here or to the sides of it or touch as much of the top half as you can at once. Even having it kind of...closed, and stroke and palm over the mound and outer lips, like the regular skin. But for orgasm, the most important part is the glans and hood up top here." 

Fuck, Brendon has such a boner. How is his teacher so sexy? She wasn't hot or anything. Young, new to teaching, and plump--curvy, but also overweight. She only wore lipstick by the looks of things, and had her hair in a ponytail. Jeans and a red blouse. But just her talking was so sexy. Her warmth showed through too. Like how she wanted to be both your teacher and friendly at the same. Didn't look down on her students at all (unless you gave her a reason to like Fuckbrain), and looked out for the girls generally, and guys like him; she didn't ignore it when boys said something about girls or guys they called faggot and stuff. He didn't think her tone was sexual before, but now, he thinks it is, and will even when she's talking about regular stuff. He wonders if he'll think about what she says later on whenever he sees her. But he's so glad, anxious but buzzing, that she's talking to them like that.

She gets out a box at the end of class, cuts a slot in it and tells them to leave questions anonymously in it whenever they wish over the rest of the week, whatever they want to ask, and she'll answer them on Friday. He can't decide if he wants to put nothing in, or just a couple less...inappropriate questions, or anything and everything that he's been thinking about before this class and because of what Ms Lowe says.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder if anyone can guess what inspired parts of this? (hint: it’s something b talked about in a periscope)

The next day, she tells them that most of the clitoris is underneath, puts another diagram of the vulva on the projector. "These are the legs here," she says as she traces over them with her finger, and he can't help but wonder if she touches herself like that. If you can feel the legs, and the bulbs she's now pointing to, through the labia. Jeez, how does everything fit? "These both, and the shaft here--yes, girls have shafts too, although ours is a lot smaller--" she chuckles--"fill up with blood when aroused, like a penis does, gets darker, although it's not as noticeable. Usually almost subtle. There's that word again. Women and men are actually a lot alike, even physically, although we tend to be subtler. Our clitorises get firmer and the inner and outer lips fill up, although how visible that is varies between women too. And we get wet, really wet if we're really turned on. Guys preejaculate usually--but not all guys--but our lubrication is more noticeable. So I guess the boys are the subtle ones on wetness, huh? All of that is why touching everything, the whole vulva, and vagina, feels so good. Why we're so responsive, and generally need it gentler than guys do."

Brendon is trapped between feeling horny, embarrassed and wanting to ask her so many questions, like what the wetness feels like, if girls feel firm like guys do, or is it...subtler like she keeps saying. But how? Like firm, but not hard like erections get especially when they're getting close to coming? Fuck, now he's thinking about what hers looks like. He wonders if her public hair matches the hair on her head. If she's turned on at all--probably not, she's a teacher, and although she's talking about this with them, she's not being pervy, more like she wants them to know this stuff too and not just the stis and pregnancy and abstinence. 

He wants to see her turned on. Wishes he were able to get alone with her, to see her--touch her there--he bets he'd come in his pants if that happened. Warm and wet and--oh god, his dick is throbbing just thinking about it. He bets she'd look and feel so...beautiful and sexy there. Tell him how to touch, guide his hand, tell him what he was touching, show him how she masturbated so he could hopefully do the same for her, make her feel as good as she knew how to make herself feel, help her come. Wet and kind of puffy, velvety...that reddish pink flesh, tender and touchable, remembering the pornography he's seen (not a lot compared to other boys but still), but it also hitting him that they usually weren't wet. Usually looked pretty dry if he thought about it, so were they turned on? Were they engorged like women get? Wonders if hers looks like any of the others he's seen, but even better, in part because she'd be so wet it'd be on her underwear and her whole pussy. And she'd taste so good too. Wonders if it would feel like big plump slick sideways lips on his... Oh god, his dick is twitching, spurting precum. Fuck, he really, really needs to stop thinking like that.

He manages to hold on until Thursday. She starts talking about--oh God--so many things. Oral sex, both fellatio, and cunnilingus--he didn't know that word before--and that new word turns him on even more, makes him think of the word cunt, which usually sounds so harsh, but cunn didn't, if that could be a word. Or cuntilingus. He shakes his head, feeling silly. 

"And not just hands and mouths can be used...you can rub on your partner's thigh, hip or belly, or if you're a guy, slide your penis in between their thighs. You can also rub together more directly vulva to penis, between the labia. Oh! Condoms should be used during that, because there are some pregnancy and sti risks even if they're significantly lower than with intercourse. And same sex couples can do that too, vulvas or penises together." He looks up, flushed and trying not to make any noise, to see her smooshing her hands together in a clap, and he remembers some of the times he saw women rubbing pussies together. "H-humping like that is usually called outercourse or frottage, and it's another kind of sex. They're all really good for arousal and orgasm for people." 

Her saying that guys and guys and girls and girls can have sex too, that for everyone sex is a lot more than one act made him even more anxious, his heart going fast, legs trembling, his tongue thick... She even thought that was ok? She had never mentioned...anal, talked as if gay guys didn't have to. He wondered what she thought of it, like even touching a guy there. He bets she has done that, like she'd touch him all over, wherever it felt good.

Briefly, kissing Eric as they jacked each other flitted through his mind, but he pushed it aside. Oh god. Why does everything make him horny? Or rubbing their cocks and balls together. Shit. Eric laying on his back, humping between his thighs, or against his ass, as he rocked against the bed, asking if he'd want it in--fuckfuckfuck. Maybe wires are getting crossed, all her sexy talk is confusing him, but he knows, in the back of his mind, that that's not true. He half-hopes he's not the only one turned on. Oh fuck--maybe some girls are even getting wet. Going down on Amanda while Eric goes down on him, her wetness even on his nose and cheeks and chin, as he moans against her, both of them sucking as much as they can...

"Oral and manual, and rubbing are sex too, even though I know a lot of people don't agree with me on that. What I figure is if someone can orgasm from it, why isn't it sex? If it involves one or both people's *sex* organs, why isn't it sex? If it makes you feel so good you're losing your damn mind..." She winks. She fucking winks. "Well you get the idea."

"To briefly get personal--so don't plan on making a habit of this one--" Deep breaths. For both of them. "I don't place one thing as being The Thing that was my virginity loss now. I did at the time, when I first had intercourse, actual penis in vagina. But it was an 'oh, that's nice I guess' and not like other times before that--like when I first came with someone, those long, or rushed, make out sessions, and humping each other silly and touching each other for the first time and the first times using our mouths--there's lots of first times, all sorts of things. There's even more than one first time with the same act, because new things can happen, new ways of experiencing, feeling." 

He can't help thinking of it, making out with her in the backseat of her car. Getting to touch her there, feel her through her panties, under them. Her pining him down and humping his thigh, that wet heat on him, panting into his mouth, rubbing him through his briefs. He pushes it aside, dick throbbing. But she returns to oral sex. And he can't help thinking of her, of that taste--he wishes he knew what it actually tasted like--wondering if girls tasted the same. What he tasted like to others, what Eric tasted like. What the new girl who was always nice to him, even laughing at his dumb jokes and telling Corey to leave him alone once when he could tell she was scared too, tasted like. What she felt like there. He can't stop thinking about it. What a girl rubbing herself on his dick would actually feel like...fuck. He wishes you could touch and suck and lick and rub on each others privates all at once. 

He comes in his goddamn pants, trying not to pant or moan or whimper, biting his lip. From her talking about how it's easier for guys to be gentle with their mouths, and that a lot of people find it one of their favourites, or even their favourite, types of sex, and those thoughts. Fuck he wants to feel it, with everything, especially his mouth and dick. Oh god. If that made him come, and in class no less, he bets he'd come even quicker if he actually got to do those things with someone. He'd be lucky to last ten seconds especially if someone touched and licked and sucked him, his dick, if he got to rub between their thighs and labia and boobs and places he couldn't even think of... Jesus Fucking Christ.

If anyone finds out, he'll never live it down. He really needs to jerk off more at night.

The Q & A on Friday never comes. A stern Principal Werner comes in the class, flustered and angry, explaining that Ms Lowe won't be teaching health class anymore due to undisclosable complaints. Brendon's stomach twists for her, even though he got as many boners, mostly ones from being turned on and not random ones when the wind blew or something, in her class in one week as he got in a couple months in all his other classes. He wishes he had at least been brave enough to ask questions, if she would have let him ask her things after class. Both he knows he'd be so nervous to do, probably too nervous to do them, but if he had known that they'd lose her, that he'd lose her, he would've made himself.

Soon after that rumors start about why she was supposedly really fired, from the possible but he still doesn't believe it to the ridiculous and...obscene is the word that comes to him, as if his father were talking. Turning what she was telling them into something wrong, something...like actually wrong. Like they could only deal with her by turning her into a walking porn joke, from an affair with a student to guys claiming that she would let one student fuck her up the ass as she blew another in school. He knows she wouldn't with a student, and she was too sexual herself, knew what she wanted and liked too much to be used like that. 

Part of him wonders what it would have been like if she had with him, had told and shown him, taught him all the answers to everything he could think of asking, everything she had mentioned in class and didn't dare mention or go into detail about in class. She wouldn't have, but he wishes that she did with him, showed him all the sexy things she could think of. He would never go around talking about like the other students are, wouldn't lie about her like that. He wonders if they'll realize what they lost because of that, what this will cost her, maybe for years to come. He wishes he knew where she'd moved to, if she's still teaching.


	5. Chapter 5

He has yet another dream about you. At first you're just sitting on his bed, talking, then suddenly you're naked, asking him if he touches himself, and even in his dream he feels so *embarrassed* at the question, yet he manages an ashamed nod. You grin, and he doesn't know what he should focus on: your smile or your boobs or... "I do too. Wanna see me do it?"

He still has the ones he's been having for longer too: celebrities and Eric and Amanda, even Brittany a couple times. But the last couple weeks has been mostly you. He tries not to think about... sex things with people when he's awake, even the occasional times he touches himself, but it's hard. He tries not to think about them when he's around others, but he's still all awkward, anxious and shy. He still is so curious and hopes God won't think he's too bad for the thoughts and dreams, but Ms Lowe helped him feel better about things. Gosh, he misses her, and wishes he could've done something to help her keep her job. She and Mr Matta were the best teachers at that hellhole.

He totally has a really big crush on you, wishes you could hang out more together, but doesn't want to be weird. Wonders what you look like, feel like, taste like...there. He remembers the sex ed diagram... and he even braves yahoo searches of words like vagina, vulva and clitoris thanks to the teacher... but he is really worried about looking at any photos and illustrations on the computer, both because it seems wrong and he doesn't want to get caught. He reads more than he looks, so it's kind of just theory, not really... real? 

He wonders if you look like any of the girls in the porn he saw. But that was real, in a way... yet he couldn't explain why he thought it was real and fake at the same time. Like the women were real, and he sometimes wonders things about them now, because Ms Lowe, while she didn't talk much about it, did say they were acting, that they usually didn't enjoy doing it. While some of it could be things that women liked and was loving, if often wasn't, and that it actually wasn't as varied as people said, like they never showed straight couples doing tribadism and frottage. He flushed even more at that, glad and embarrassed at the same time for telling the class all that. Especially her talking about rubbing together again. But she was probably right about them not showing that, even though he hadn't seen much. He had seen two women do it, but not a guy and a girl. She called it male-centered too, said it focused on male pleasure and the acts were focused on that, but he didn't get how that was when there was mostly women in it, and it seemed like the women liked it a lot.

Online on his own, he does still peek at a few, diagrams and photos, and sees one where the inner lips are really big, like a lot bigger than the regular skin ones and wonders what yours look like. Sometimes it looks really... like innards-y, but better looking than penises, and really... like... people needed to see them, like they were too beautiful and stuff not to be seen and felt—oh God, they must feel so warm and soft, silky, squishy and wet... He remembers from Ms Lowe too that different girls can be different sizes and colors, like guys with dick and balls... like some had big lips, some medium, some small. And clitorises can be differently sized, but the few he found while looking didn't look that different in size, all pretty small. Ms Lowe said most of the clitoris was underneath the labia and that still confuses him: how did that fit together and work? He types in clitoris inside on yahoo and lets himself look at a couple illustrations that show it all to see if they look the same.

Ms Lowe said everywhere was really good to touch, but where would girls like being touched best, and how, beyond lightly? How would you? He has to admit he actually wants to try, to touch, and look, and feel it on different parts like she talked about and, God, even taste, and he feels so guilty and sinful sometimes.

But other times: how could it be bad, if she wanted to too? Why would making girls feel so good be bad? That seems kind of messed up. Why would a God who loves all his children not want them to make each other feel really good? Why do church leaders say it's bad, and that when it's between two women or especially two men, it's even worse, could even put them in outer darkness? Like a man and a woman could do things if they were married, mainly if it was around having kids, and even doing things before marriage was seen as still wrong but understandable, forgivable. Yet not only the Mormon church, but most people, especially guys thought it was disgusting, unnatural, sinful between two men. And guys watched porn of women together, fantasized about it, but would still call it sin and didn't like the ones they called butches and dykes. There was anger there, like with faggot. And two men and two women couldn't get married, and marriage was needed but not enough to get into the celestial kingdom.

His parents must think it's all bad too, and he feels kind of bad for them too, especially his mom—he wonders if she even felt as good, did things with his dad like Ms Lowe talked about, but he feels weird wondering about his mom like that. He wouldn't lie to his mom, but he hopes they don't find out about his thoughts and dreams and... how he sometimes felt about things, about Eric even, even though he knows his dad suspects since he got into the dress up box and his mom's make up and clothes and how even with his brothers around, he never outgrew it, still plays with his mom and sisters and sometimes wears his mom's jeans, still his mama's boy, still too anxious and sad and panicked and needy. But he worries less, or maybe feels more ok with things, and he hopes none of it would hurt his mom too much if it ever came out. He hates to see her upset or disappointed, would never want to not see and feel the love she has for him coming happily off of her, hugs, kisses, laughing together, cuddling with her on the couch, playing with and brushing each other's hair, everything.

When he has really sexual thoughts around people he tries not to get a hard on in front of them, especially you, because even though, uh, it's pretty small, he doesn't want you to find out. But he wishes you did know at the same time, and sometimes he wants you to find out.

Even just being able to kiss you, to squeeze you to him, would blow his mind he bets. But his dreams are usually dirty. He sees you touch yourself another night because you want him to see how you do it. You tell him to stay as you get yourself off, hand moving between your legs, and he's frozen in the doorway, skin and dick and balls aching. As you're coming down you invite him to get on the bed to see better, and you keep touching, shifting and opening up so he can see more. You're making these needy moany noises, a mix of ones that sound like the ones he sometimes can't keep in and how the girls sound in porn, and he stutters out "C-can I?" as his hand rests shyly on your thigh, feeling so flushed, excited, nervous but eager, and like he might come soon.

"Yeah, please, Bren. Fuck.” You guide his hand in touching you, and he can feel it, warm and wet, slippery and engorged like girls get when they're aroused. He comes then, in his pants in the dream, and he bets that's when he comes in his bed sheets in real life when he wakes in the morning.

A few don't have any plot at all. Bam: you're spread on a bed or couch and he's kneeling before you, face between your thighs, kissing, licking, even sucking like he read can be done, the lips and clit, pushing his tongue in. Ok, he admits he read a few articles specifically about cunnilingus too. Another word Ms Lowe taught them. It might be what he wants to do most, tasting and feeling you there with his mouth, showing you how good he wants you to feel. Slurping, making you feel so good, and he doesn't want to treat any of it like foreplay. 

He thinks using his mouth and even hands, and lots of other things, are main things like Ms Lowe, Eric and Amanda said, and women find it such a good source of orgasms, more so than sex sex, so why is it foreplay and not sex too? Why's only one thing sex? He wants to do it a lot of the time, even when he's awake, in school near you, make you come from it, however long as it takes until you do, then keep going, make it happen again. He figures teen girls can have multiple orgasms too and not just women, and he wishes he could do that for you too. When he lets himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> big warning for bullying, homophobia, male violence, sexism, slurs

Brendon gets so joyous, hyper, anxious, blushy around you, Eric, Amanda, a couple others. He's such a sweetie, and you have to admit you love watching him, his smile, puppy eyes, face all lit up, the nervous excitement in his body, his giggling, how much he loves making people happy. How free is is with compliments, jokes, hugs and back rubs. How you learned he loves having his hair pet when he couldn’t hold the tears back after something happened that he couldn’t even tell you. Your own heart picking up, sometimes even getting butterflies in your tummy, and... even lower, tickling or even getting a full achy feeling.

A few boys bully him really bad, physically too, punches, shoves, trips, leaving him bruised up regularly. Even more call him faggot and worse, like things he supposedly does—cocksucker and pillowbiter—and how he's as bad as a girl; bitch and other words that fill you with shame and anger for yourself and other girls too and not just him when you hear them. Like his friendliness, even gentleness, desire to please means he should be treated like that, when if anything it means the opposite, makes how they treat him even wronger. His softness is both why he's picked on and what makes them even more hurtful. Pricks. You stand up for him when you see things, are glad he is thankful, even though it probably makes it worse for him, having a mere girl protect him. You wish you could actually stop all of it.

“Looks like the little faggot's got a girlfriend to fight his battles,” one boy sneered when you told him to stop or you'd tell when he had Brendon backed against the locker, holding him up as he kneed him in the stomach. “Too bad he'll never get it up for you. Too busy taking it up the ass, huh?” You can hear B's whimper, and get the dark, sick feeling he'd make Brendon say it, repeat it back to him, if you don't do something more. You get close, and do the first things you can think of: jump on him, biting as hard as you can into his neck, not letting go even when you taste blood. He cries out in pain and shock, trying to get you off. 

Brendon's tugging on you, and your brain clicks into gear, letting go, quickly running as you grab B's hand, not stopping until you've found a closet, hiding in there with him, panting, proud that you can taste that you hurt him for hurting Brendon, grinning before pulling him into a hug. He's so warm, and small for a boy, and you wonder how warm he'd be normally. That earns you the name vampire whore. It makes you feel closer to him. If vampires have familiars like witches do, you’d pick Brendon. Like whore puts you in the same hated box as faggot. The bullies sling words like those to hurt, to put others underneath them, but you don't like thinking too much about it, and wish he didn't have to too.

\------

You think those boys are right about Brendon, but not in the way they do, how they try to turn it into something terrible, especially when you see him around Eric. So. Freaking. Moon-eyed. He gets the most flustered around him, even though you and the other girls get kind of flirty and jokey with him too. Brittany especially thinks he's so obviously gay, and you think it actually works in his benefit with girls, like you all feel like you can be more open with him, more friendly, even flirty, talk about boys and cramps and how you don't really like shaving. You want to let him know it's ok. You think Eric thinks it's ok too; he says and does the same kind of flirty stuff with Brendon, but you know Eric likes Amanda, and that they do all sorts of things together, pretty much everything but actual sex even though they both say they have sex. But maybe that's why they don't go all the way? Because he's... gay for Brendon.

Amanda finds it amusing though, calls Brendon the cutest, says she'd even be cool with Eric and Brendon doing stuff like make out—“just as long as I get to watch.”

Jen hoots, and Brittany grins slyly. “You can sign me up for that too.”

Jen, once she recovers, gets a devious grin on her face. “Amanda, I don't think you'd just watch.” That makes your face heat up. You're actually the most experienced after Amanda and Eric, but holy shit.

“Yeah, she'd probably wind up humping the both of them, and traumatizing our poor gayby B,” Brittany adds, and Amanda throws a pillow at her.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” But she's grinning like she knows what kind of girl she is and is proud of it.

You can't help thinking about it... her and the two boys, kissing, grinding on each other. Oh god. The fact you probably have a crush on Brendon—let's be real, do have a crush on him—doesn't help. You hope they don't notice how... turned on you’re getting.

\------

The boy you have a crush on is a gayby, who must be struggling with it, his attraction to other boys and his faith. You know that Mormons think homosexuality is really sinful, an abomination, like your Catholic family does.

Amanda is making out with Eric in front of the group, and you notice Brendon flush, his eyes shifting down to the table. Amanda lightly teases him between kissing Eric, “You can look if you want, B... He's so cute I can't help wanting to kiss my boy... Who wouldn't wanna smooch him?... And I could hardly be mad at you for that.” Oh no... he's starting to get anxious, panicky, and you want to step in, but know he needs to hear it too. She turns, brows furrowing. “Oh, B... I... are you ok? I'm sorry, hon... Didn't mean to—it's just...”

“I-I know... I just...”

“Did you wanna go outside with me, B? Get some fresh air?” you ask softly. 

He looks up, eyes wide, scared, nodding. You hold his hand, shoulder nudging softly into him, as you walk, telling him to breathe slow, thumb stroking. You think maybe he is your familiar as you see him get calmer.

“I-it is ok, B... we—I want you to know that... We all do. Whoever it is. I—you know Eric is bi, right?” The words catch you off guard, but—that's exactly what he is. Amanda told you that, and you didn't believe it, thought a guy was straight or gay, but now you think you do. Eric is too... into girls, like really really into girls if Amanda's talking about how great he is in bed (and in the car, couch, at a couple concerts...) is true, to not actually like them too.

He was kind of calm, but goes wide eyed at that. “I—it's just that it's ok. Boys liking boys. It's not bad... especially not like they say.”

“It's not?” He sounds so desperate your heart and stomach twists up. “Sometimes—I think it can't be like they say.”

You slowly bring him into a hug, letting him reject it, grateful he doesn't. This... sweetheart believed he was bad, fundamentally bad. Your baby, you can't help thinking, part of you wishing you could stroke over him, give him kisses, tell him he was a lovely good wonderful boy.

"No, sweetie, it's not bad. My uncle is... My dad doesn't talk to him since he came out, but my mom does. She says how can she stop loving her brother just because he loves another man? And--well--I've seen a couple things... movies, not like... porn, but regular ones. And... it can be normal and... beautiful..." Now you're getting flustered, and you think, but don't say: and a turn on. Jeez, you're thinking like Amanda. His eyes widen and he burrows into your neck, your hand instinctively petting through his hair.

"What were they about?" he asks after a quiet moment.

“Wanna see one? If you want...” He nods slowly. “K, B. Come over when my dad's not around? He plays cards with his friends Fridays. Only if you want to..."

He looks around, You're by the furthest tree still on school grounds, and no one else is near. "Um---ah... yeah. Maybe I mean. Yeah?"

"Yeah? He-he goes out after dinner till late. come over then?" 

He nods.


	7. Chapter 7

Your mom lets you stay in your parents room: there's a tv there and... you told her that Brendon was struggling with being gay. It brought out her sympathy and got her to not worry about a teenaged boy being in a bedroom with her daughter with the door closed. You nervously settle on your parents bed with an anxious him, thinking you've picked the best one out of the three you had that dealt with both music and... gayness. He's in band, first drummer, and he plays piano and guitar and most other things he can get his hands on, usually but not always well, and you know he likes most music from the 1960s to now. Gosh, you love how happy making music makes him, wish you had moved at the start of the year instead so you could've tried out for band and had more excuses to... watch him when he plays. 

So, while there is a... well, rape scene (you took a while to realize that’s what Rod did), the rest of it is just so... the music, fashion, how he learns he's gay and it's kind of hard but he gets through it, Eric's mama (you think Brendon's mom would understand too, even if his dad didn't, because he's still a mama's boy), the kissing and the touching and how human it all is... And if he likes this one, maybe you can warm him up to Velvet Goldmine and talk him through the... child abuse, because you know how much he likes Bowie. Crush level likes.

You got him on your parents bed with you, both of you awkward and blushy, and decided to warn him about that scene when the time came. Thank God your mom let you close the door, because this movie. It's so much more... inappropriate... watching it with someone. You're trying not to get turned on, even at the flirtiness, and generally failing, so you're thankful girls can hide it. You and Brendon were shyly singing and kind of dancing along to songs like Hey Mickey at first, you not able to not keep looking at him, making sure he was ok with things, loving that he loved the music and recognized Blondie and Annie Lennox and others. 

But by the time of the scene where Maggie and Eric are kissing as Rod rubs his crotch... you're too embarrassed to. You think he is too, especially when the movie gets to where Eric and Rod are... making out. He seemed flustered even earlier on, and you wonder if he's turned on now, if he's getting... hard, and you're flushing even more. Shit, why'd you choose to watch this movie, with a gay boy whom you have a big ass crush on. You find yourself looking over: he's covering his crotch with a pillow, trying not to look at you. Oh, God, he is. And it's because of two guys making out—oh, Jesus, now Rod is mouthing over Eric's briefed crotch, and you're turned on even more, realizing you're kind of wet, embarrassed to high hell.

"I-I-sorry, Bren. I don't want to weird you out, but I--"

"B-but you what?" he stutters, drawing the pillow closer. Part of you wants to hug him, kiss his hair, pet over his hair and back.

"I... Did you want to watch this alone?"

"Why?" he sounds panicked now.

You finally think to press pause. You don't want to upset him, but maybe being cagey will make it worse, so the words tumble out. "I—can't believe I'm saying this but... I like you, but I know you're, y'know, and I'm turned on right now. Not just by the movie. Oh, god. And I know you don't like me like that 'cause you're gay, and that's good, but—"

"Whoa... Usually I'm the one being asked to calm down, breathe." You stop, shifting around uncomfortably, able to tell he is too even though you're barely looking at each other. The awkward just comes off in waves with you two. "I-you-I'm gonna be brave for you, k? Shit... Here goes. Yeah? Like I think... don't tell, ok?” You shake your head, wanting to take his hand, something. “I like boys, but like, too, not only, y'know. Girls too. I mean, I think--"

"Really? Like like... both?"

His eyes close, and he falls onto his back, pillow still over his front. "I think so, yeah. and--" He stops, blushing more, getting more anxious. "What do you mean, not just by the movie?" You don't know this but he's letting himself hope.

"I-it's alright, but I can tell, you know, that you... are too, and knowing that... I like it, like it's turning me on more... But I know you don't like me..."

His eyes widen. "Why do you think that? Why do you think I'm so nervous around you, y/n?"

He's nervous around everyone, but... "Oh."

"Yeah."

After a minute, you break the silence. "Fuck. I—can I kiss you, B? Like, fuck. Kinda wanna kiss you, and I don't want to ruin this, or miss my shot either, you know? If this is my shot?"

He flushes more, and the apologies are tumbling out. “B, sorry, don't worry about it, ok? You don't have to.” You awkwardly pat his hand, and since when has affection, touch with him been difficult since you started doing it? He was such a pup, always melting into it, and you were worried about doing too much, but felt easy with it too.

“No, I want to...” Emboldened, you entwine fingers, squeeze. Even anxious, he's still such a cutie. “It's just...”

"Just what?"

"Should I still be brave?”

“If you want... I'd like you to, but only if you want.”

He swallows, squeezes back, shuffles awkwardly up with one hand out of commission, looks at your clammy hands. “I... haven't actually done anything bad yet, well except stuff like I've tried pot and I've... talked a few times about things with Eric. Mostly just thought about it. Like a lot. Um, y'know, sex stuff."

The words are out before you can stop them: “Do you want to do anything bad? With me?"

His brow furrows, more nervous. "Y-yeah. I-I like you. Thought about things. The stuff Ms Lowe taught and even Amanda and Eric talk about. And dreams too." He's blushing furiously now, biting his lip.

You wonder if he knows girls have thoughts and dreams like that too. You did... about him too a few times. Including the day you invited him over to watch this damned movie. If B's being brave, so can you. “Girls do too...” you whisper. Now both of you are looking down at your hands. You brave stroking your thumb over his, hear his breath catch just from that.

“Like what?”

“Like... thoughts, n dreams... n stuff.” Your other hand joins, cupping his, lightly stroking.

You wonder if he masturbates with those hands. He's a good mormon boy, and he's not done things with anyone, but... he's thought about it. A lot of different its apparently. And he's a teenaged boy, for heaven's sake. “D-oh, god, you don't have to tell me this... but... d'you... uh... nevermind.”

“N-no, what? You can ask.” Please ask, he thinks.

“Uh... if I tell you something about me... and if you promise not to make fun or anything, I will... that'll let you know the question I wanna ask.”

Of course he wouldn't. Whatever it was. So he promises.

“K... so like... girls have dreams... like sex dreams... and we think about things other times too. And we--” Your hands leave his, covering your face. You're going to die of embarrassment. “We... well, some of us. I think a lot of girls don't... like Amanda's the only other girl who said she does...” And how she does. Lord. Ms Lowe apparently told her classes—you were in the grade above Brendon and didn't have her, only Brittany and Brendon did—that most girls and women did too, but girls never talked about it, or only did to say it was weird and gross and that they wouldn't.

Brendon's kind of glad you can't see him right now, because he probably looks stupidly hopeful or something. Oh, god... you're talking about... touching yourself, aren't you?

You're on your back now, debating your life choices this week. Here goes nothing. “And... well... Amanda's not the only one. Idotoo. Like... y'know. Masturbate.”

“I... do too,” he says softly, not sure if that makes things less weird or more. And it makes him aware of the fact he's still half hard. He tries not to do it a lot, or to only do it until before he... comes, even now, but he's got to admit he's been doing it more. Even did it until he came after dinner, before he came over. Letting himself think about Eric. Kissing, touching, and humping through jeans, telling himself that... might be ok. Wondering what'd it feel like, his lips, hands, skin, dicks rubbing together without actually rubbing right on each other. Like God would see it as less bad, because he saw that as less bad between a guy and a girl. Telling himself not to feel ashamed afterwards, coming down from his orgasm, cleaning up, remembering the things you, Ms Lowe, Amanda and Eric said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two parts in one night. because of @panicsinning (on tumblr) wanting something in this part too and not just the next you’re getting a paragraph more than you would’ve otherwise ;)
> 
> disclaimer: obviously i don’t share this reader’s definition of sex, virginity, etc (n it’s weird for me to write like that). amanda and eric are working on it :P

You start chuckling, not sure why. The whole situation is pretty ridiculous. “T-that's good, B. I mean...” You roll over onto your belly, pillow over your head, then peek out at him, face sideways. “I don't know why... like it's like girls aren't supposed to. Or even can't. Or y'know... people think we only put things inside... when it's mostly... our... the outside. Clit n stuff.”

You're surprised you managed that much, but you're so not going to be able to tell him that you've done it thinking about him. Him touching you like that, making out with him, grinding on him... doing things that Amanda told you about, that you've done. You burrow into the bed, as if hiding your face means he won't know. Even going all the way.

You bet it'd be better with him than the two guys you've done that with, probably better than the two guys you've only done other stuff with too, but things were better with them, they were into lots of things. Guys, not that you had a huge sample size, but what you've heard too, even with how Eric was because he was still a virgin, seemed to not be interested much in other stuff, especially stuff focused on girls, if they could actually do it. Like up to an hour or more, making out, kissing, touching, grinding, using hands on each other, sometimes oral, using thighs with one guy you later slept with and one you didn't, often rubbing together naked (you thought of it as wet humping because things got wet and there was no clothing soaking it up). That, getting oral, his thigh, hand inside and out... felt better usually than actual sex. Then with sex? About ten minutes of making out, hands on each other briefly, and it's like he forgot you had a clit, then in and out for a few minutes, not long enough even for that. But still a couple minutes was better than the older guy who wouldn't let himself come until you faked it, raw, sore, tired, bored, wanting it done. You only had sex with him a few times, gave up after you tried telling you to keep touching you like he used to and stuff, but... it's like he didn't care anymore, or think it worth bothering.

You bet B wouldn't be like that, even if you did do that too. You hope he's even half as sweet, shy, eager to please with messing around as he is with other things, because if he is... Gosh, he'd be so good. You'd never fake it with him; you'd be too busy being turned on and coming. He'd let you take as long as you wanted, do whatever you wanted. When he came quick (you bet he usually would: all that nervous energy, the repression dam breaking, how happy and excited he got...), he wouldn't be done, like Eric... You wonder what exactly Eric's told him. Because Eric really seemed to have good ideas, thanks in part to Amanda. You don't realize you're pressing your mound into the bed until you've done it... crap, you bet a few times. Shit. Did he notice?

“C-can I ask you a question?”

You muffle a yes, thankful he didn't seem to pick up on it.

“Uh... do you... do it more than once? Like can you... come—” You bet he's so red cheeked right now, and are tempted to look again. You want to smooch those cheeks. You turn to answer under the pillow, but resist looking.

“More than once? Yeah... like even more than three times in a go. More than boys can for sure. Like... even five times.” More than that in a day, if you go at it a couple different times, but you don't say that aloud. Like eight times a day, but you're worried that makes you... a whore or something.

Even though, don't whores do it for money? They probably didn't really enjoy it, having to do it, guys picking them, not really the other way around, doing what the men wanted. Not that that was all that different from how those two guys got. So, a slut. But that was based on what other's thought too, so that really wasn't it either. 

Like an Amanda. That makes you snort. The girl's her own category, and it was a really pleasurable one for her. Not paying attention to people's words or judgments, even when you could tell they hurt her. Besides, a lot of them didn't know what she did with Eric—she only told friends details about that. They just knew she knew a lot about fooling around, sex, bodies and how girls came and didn't hide it, although they assumed all sorts of things based on that. She sometimes tried to set them right, sometimes gave up and didn’t let it get to her.

He was quiet after his question, except for his breathing and you're getting worried. “B... you ok?” No answer, so you move the pillow, see him wide-eyed and tense. “Oh... honey.” He brings those sweet words to mind and out of your mouth. Your sweet boy. Maybe actually... if he wants. But talking and actually doing something are two different things.

“I... Sorry, y/n...”

“No... it's ok, B. Don't be sorry. Everything's ok. We... nothing has to happen. You don't have to do anything. I don't expect anything. We don't even have to keep talking...”

Oh no, you think he wants to stop. As if he doesn't want to... like he's not sure what he does want to do, but he bets that if you want to do it with him, he'd want to too. It's more like he doesn't know what to do, or know how to actually... start anything. Why'd he have to be so weird? He just knows... some of the thoughts he had before came into his head when you were talking about... Jesus, you touched yourself like that. Made yourself feel so good, come. Lots too. Fuck... what do you feel like there? Getting him even more turned on and anxious. Winning combo, Brendon, you dumbass.

He shakes his head. “I—I do want... to keep talking. Or whatever.” Oh god, what if you don't want to? Of course that'd be ok... but maybe you are just trying to be nice, and didn't really mean that you liked him like that or did but just wanted to be friends or— And he's almost hyperventilating, getting that twisty painful floppy feeling in his belly...

You're taking him in your arms, one hand on his shoulder, other his back, stroking, legs on either side but avoiding the pillow. Even if only with this, he's your sweet boy. Your heart and... other places... ache for him. Breathing slow and easy, touching soft, up and down his back, circles, the other hand entwining in his hair...

Oh boy. Boner. He always likes his hair played with, but it's... way more sexual this time. And he don't think he can will it down. Or maybe he doesn't want to. He's not sure what to do with his hands, so he puts them on the pillow to better keep said boner hidden. He wishes he could be cool like he sometimes is in his dreams and fantasies. But let's be real, he's usually a big dork in them too.

"Hey sweetie...” you whisper, placing a kiss on his forehead. “You're my anxious baby, ain't ya?" You want him to know you find it endearing. He nods, eyes closed, but relaxing, less panicked.

"Y-yeah, wish I wasn't. but I-I w-want to. I hope you know that. Whatever you are thinking, I'd want to."

"What do you think I'm thinking of, B?"

Those dreams and fantasies are back again. Oh God, were you having dirty ones like he has for months? What kinds of sex did girls think about? Did you ever think about him? "I-I dunno."

"Well... I've been thinking bout kissing you. Wanna kiss me?"

He remembers being seven, and wanting to kiss a girl like they did in the movies, how he both wanted to kiss and be David Bowie in Labyrinth, and the two times at 12 and 13 he turned girls down, wanting but knowing he shouldn't. Those times with Eric... Maybe he should've then, maybe even with Eric, and he definitely should now. "I—yeah. I don't... know what to do, really. Just thought about it. Let me know if i should do it different?"

A wicked idea crosses your mind. Well, wicked considering his lack of experience. You pull away some. "Did you think about using tongue?" He gasps at that, shaking his head, sucks in his bottom lip, and your eyes follow, heat spreading through you. "Your lips, Bden..." slips out, and you hope it's not too much. Your eyes flicker back up to his. "Has anyone told you you have amazing lips. Really wanna kiss them." You shift, facing him, thigh to thigh, trying to find a good angle, hand on his other side holding yourself up.

He nods, so you go in, allowing him time to pull back, but he's leaning in, and your lips meet, still closed. They feel as plump as they look, and you lick his top lip, really nervous and excited yourself. They part as he gasps, and you go open mouthed, but you try to go slow for him, no tongue. Your baby boy's a natural; it's like he knows they're big, so he's cautious with them or something. He's really good at following your lead, and now you're gasping too, hand finding his hair, arousal tickly and deep at once. Turning so you're mirroring his position, shuffling up to the headboard, drawing him even closer. You wonder how hard he is below that pillow, for how long, if he's aching. Your tongue flicks out, touching his before withdrawing, and he whimpers.


	9. Chapter 9

“More, B?" you ask, pulling away, and he nods, “yes”ing frantically. You go back in—fuck his lips—move your tongue eagerly over his and he responds, slow like you're stroking over his hair. You follow him this time, and it becomes slow and sweet. Thankful that the door is closed, because... he's a whimpery moany gaspy boy. Fuck, is he like that when he's jerking off? And how noisy he must get when he comes; how does he hide it from his family? You just make out like that a minute, maybe thinking about him naked, his hand stroking over his dick, biting his plump lip, moaning soft, then more needy, the pants and gasps, trying to be quiet, maybe covering his mouth with his other hand... Fuck. You move to suck in his bottom lip, and he moans full on. Flushing, as if he's finally realizes those sexy noises he makes. "Fuck, B. You're so hot. Anyone ever tell you that?" 

He "Nuh uh"s as well he can considering, trying to catch his breath, and manages to ask "Can I?" before he's sucking on your bottom lip, running his tongue over it. 

Lord, you want to fling that pillow away and climb on his lap, straddle him, grind until you both come, but don't want to move too fast. Maybe you can leave the pillow between you, you think, giggling. "You're sexy, B," you whisper as you pull away, bringing your foreheads together as he blushes, then go back to kissing him. You want to bring his hand onto your thigh, see how he reacts, so you do. "Can I, B? Just like this? That ok?"

"Hell yes," he says, shocking himself. He wants to move his hand up higher, until he's on your... clothed privates, is itching to, so he just slides his hand up a bit more, trying to read your body language. 

You shift into him more. “Wanna lay down?” 

He nods, heart thumping like crazy, feeling it in his fingertips, lips, dick, everywhere. Shuffling down so you can ease him with a shy hand on his chest onto his back onto the bed.

You can feel his heartbeat, warmth radiating through his shirt. You want to take that top off, touch him all over, press your bare skin to his, kiss, touch, wriggle, feel all of him with all of you... "Not too fast?" 

"No," he responds really fast, breathless. 

You giggle, pressing yourself against his side, kiss him more. Jesus, this boy's plush lips and tongue. Fuck, you want to... fuck, make out and hump him, press your mound, pussy into him, over and over. His hip, thigh, crotch, anywhere. 

"B. B... Can I? Please?" you plead between kisses as you press against his hip. 

“Yeah—anything..." 

He probably doesn't even know what you're suggesting, so you work up some more of that dirty courage. "Can I—your hip—press myself... like hump..." Now you're the blushing, anxious one, unable to finish, and he blushes again too. He makes you feel so soft, hot, nervous, melty. You cup his cheek, gently turning his face to kiss over the heated flesh. 

His eyes flutter shut. "God, y/n... yeah... that'd feel good for you?" Fuck, even his eyelashes are... lush. You kiss over them too. His nose—God, he sure did get some really pretty Hawaiian features thanks to his mom, didn't he—and he tilts up, nodding, and you're kissing him. Shit, he'd let you, for as long as you wanted, wouldn't he? He's the most inexperienced, inhibited boy you've been with, and the sweetest. But you're finding you like being his leader, so to speak.

"Uh... yeah. Feels really good, B..." Your hips start moving, pushing your mound onto his bony yet fleshy hip. Oh, does it feel good. After a couple minutes, getting more turned on, still making out with him, hand shyly stroking through your hair in response to you playing with his hair first, his other hand braves out to your back, running down to just above your ass. You can feel the slickness helping your lips rub together, feeling achy, trying to keep both of you quiet enough. This is really good, but you think his thigh would work even better. God, you could press against him with your thigh too. Or reach between you, rub over his jeans to feel his hard on. 

"Fuck, Brendon... Jesus..." He flushes more at that. "I want... your thigh... Just tell me if it gets to be too much..." He only moans into your mouth as you shift over, laying on him as you straddle his thigh. You're grinding on him, and notice him start to move too, but subtly, as if by instinct, unaware. You grin. 

"Feel good, B?" 

"Yeah," he moan-sighs.

“Wanna move? Like rub on me back?” That's slows him. Baby... “It's ok... Want you to... hope you want to. You—really seem like you want to.” You shift until you're covering most of him, belly on his. You kiss soft over his face, lips, trace them with your tongue, and they fall open, inviting you in to swallow up his soft noises, adding some of your own quieter ones. Tongue shy and careful but eagerly meeting yours.

He slides his hand, finally, to your ass, pressing you down on his thigh more. You move a bit lower, deciding against going crotch to crotch, not wanting to risk pushing it, letting him rock against the pouch of your belly through your clothes, eyes fluttering shut. “Y/n, please, oh, y/n!" he pants. "OhGodohgod, I'm gonna--"

He's going to come for you, in his pants, isn't he? And it's been less than a minute... “Shh, hon... Let it come, B... but... shh, shhh, it's gonna be ok...” You kiss him between murmurs, braver tongue stroking his shier tongue. All this... sensuousness... bursting out of him.

He seizes up, humping and gasping through it, that hot wetness seeping through his underwear, you bet. He strokes over your back, ass, hips, thighs, keeps kissing you, keeps rocking the both of you. You can tell he's getting anxious again. "S-Sorry, but... don't stop..." 

"For what, B?" you decide to tease him a bit, careful to sound light, petting his hair, grinding soft on his thigh. "For creaming your jeans? I wanted you to... Ever do that before?" He nods, eyes downcast. "Oh, sweetie...” You kiss his sweaty forehead. “Bet you've done it a few times, huh?" He is a horny teen aged boy who seems to not let himself actually do anything about it. Outside of masturbate, but you bet he doesn't do it much. 

“Do you do it often? Probably not... I mean, touch yourself?”

He buries his face in your neck, hair and skin rubbing softly, almost ticklish, against you. “How much is often? I-I try not to sometimes, but...”

“I-I can go a week or more without, but other times... Like three times a week. And a few... orgasms each time, so I bet not as much as me. And I bet less than other boys too... but either way, it's ok, B...”

He kisses, chastely almost, over your pulse. 

“And I—like people think everyone uses hands... I do too, but... uh... I usually...” You're tempted to ask him not to tell or make fun, but you know he wouldn't. “Use... like I can't come, like for the first one or two, by hand? Weird, huh? Can't if I'm on my back either. And, uh...” You rock on his thigh again. “This is how I do it. Ah, I get a blanket, bunch it up between my legs, go on my belly..." You can't believe you're telling him this; you've never told anyone, regardless of what you'd been doing with them. "Oh, God..." You hide your face in his hair, smelling coconut and pineapple, cheek too, nuzzling against his silkiness.

"Don't be embarrassed, y/n..." He pauses, then the next words rush out. "Thanks for telling me. I'm glad... I didn't know girls could like that, but I'm glad you told me... N it makes sense, I guess... like... if you can rub on people...” Grateful that at least he didn't say he thought that was hot too—it was—and ask if he could see it—he wanted to, but asking that? He's feeling too nervous again, and, not thinking, latches softly onto your neck, suckling.

Oh, god. Oh, fuck... That spot... one of the best to lick and suck and kiss. You believe what he says, but really, those plush lips there are enough to have you moving desperately on him, grinding and humping. Eventually going harder than you would if it was just a naked you and your favorite blanket because you're both wearing jeans. 

He moves over your jaw, lips... “Where should I? N how?” he asks, one hand on your back, the other your hair, kissing you over and over. You guide his head gently, and his lips follow, his tongue pressing to your pulse, lapping. Pulling away to say shy, excited "Thank you"s and "God, y/n" and “Like this? Where else?” You slowly guide his hand under your shirt to the small of your back, asking him to rub a little firmer. Wondering how his lips and hands and skin would feel all over you. Your hand entwining in his, other hand on his shoulder, pinning him to the bed with them and your weight, firm and fast humps. Fuck, imagine if you were both naked, slipping over his thigh... “Fuck, B, fuck...”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for the last three paragraphs getting into details about sex between dogs. it starts after “Sliding through that wetness...” if you wanted to skip it. But please still take note of this one sentence in them about B: "Sensing even back then that he'd so be the dog who'd let her [mount him], would want to do anything and everything she wanted, an eager, hyper, needing to please, pliant puppy."

"Are you gonna... y'know? What's it feel like for girls?"

You can't answer while you're in the midst of it, but you want to later. "Good, B. Really, really, oh, good" is what you manage for now. And some seconds later almost pleading: "Ohgod, yeah, yeah, fuck. Fuck. Please." Jeez, you manage to be quieter when you're alone, you swear. But you also want to let the noises out, even with your mom downstairs, listening to country, because he is.

He muffles your moans with another long kiss, pulling away to look at your face. "Even your noises are sexy..."

“Yours too,” you gasp. Panting, shaking, rigid. You keep moving on him through it. "Motherfucker!" you cry out as you come.

You open your eyes again, managing to scramble for the remote to get MTV on, muffling further noise.

He's blushing even more, breath coming fast too. "I-I want—Can I feel you? Like there?" He's been thinking about it so much. His mouth is watering, dick still throbbing, with how much he wants to do it, feeling and tasting and you rubbing on him, everything, whatever you want to do. He knows you've been with a few guys, but he's doesn't know what went down, wonders if those guys were as good to you as Eric is with Amanda, as he hopes he will be. He wishes they were, because that means you felt so good, got lost in it, came lots. And they did what you wanted, how you wanted... Wonders if a guy's ever had his mouth there—he hopes that too—but guys don't talk much about it, and usually don't seem to like it much, use it to get oral sex back. They talk more about fingering girls. That seems like a safer bet, like something most have done, something you've done, so it wouldn't be weird to ask. But he wants to do what feels best, and he didn't think lately that how guys other than Eric talked about it probably felt that good.

“Y-you don't have to, y/n, but if you want me to, I want to... S-sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, B...”

He doesn't even register you bringing his hand to cup your jeaned mound until he feels it, curling over it instinctively, wishing you were naked so he could really feel it.

God, even licking your taste off his fingers would drive him crazy, he bets as he keeps still, looking down as you rock up against his hand. And what the wetness feels like, does it feel like jizz or like something completely different? And what does that skin feel like? The inner and outer labia, clit, vagina. Getting to pet the hair there, how even the labia covered by hair are sensitive. Oh fuck, he really wants to feel all of it. 

He hears you say he can, sees you undoing your pants. Fuck, he... This is so much, but it's what he's been thinking and dreaming about for months. God. He's never sworn, taken his name in vain as much as he has tonight in your bedroom. His hand finds your lower belly, remembering how much you swore when you were rubbing on his thigh. He wonders if you came, and if his hand could do as good a job. He wants to. He slides his hand under your panties, but stops when he feels the hair there, another wave of anxiety hitting him.

Ohgodohgod. Thinking and doing... two different things. Very different. Crinkly but soft and bushier than he thought... And he really didn't think it was bad, like a sin if sins were hurting someone, something actually wrong, but... what if it was bad? What—what if he was bad at things? Didn't make you feel good... He tries to breathe, nuzzles his nose over your neck, breath coming fast, heart banging, stomach twisting.

"It's ok, B. We can stop..." You stroke soft over his arm, but don't do anything to move it, letting him decide.

"N-no, I want to. I just—I. You know I've never... and I want it to be good for you. Like you were when you were... y'know, on my thigh... Does a hand feel that good for you? Like how should I..."

When guys other than Eric talk about using their hand, they make it sound like they use their fingers inside mostly, thrusting. There wasn't a lot of it in the porn he saw, and it seemed kind of rough usually, inside or out, mostly inside, and they never asked how, and the girl usually didn't guide the one doing it, even in the couple of clips he saw online, other than saying stuff like harder. The softcore movie and clips he saw were... softer, but more confusing. Sometimes they rubbed themselves, the top, or all over. Girls together did it a lot more, but they always had these long nails that he later realized must’ve hurt.

But you came just from rubbing yourself against him, and Ms Lowe talked about how important the clitoris is, and how it's not just the outside part, and mostly underneath the labia, and the sets of labia, but didn't get that specific, like how to actually touch beyond that word subtle... She said to ask, be soft. He wants to be soft enough. He kind of knows how Amanda likes it, like as much as he can imagine based on what Eric, and even Amanda has said, feeling guilty about hearing it, without asking a dozen of his own questions, but that doesn't mean you'd be the same.

"It might not...like just to touch would work, but don't worry about trying to... I'm surprised if I even manage it with my own hands, let alone on my back too.”

“Side?” Wait, you said belly earlier. “Belly's best, right?”

“Yeah. But I still really like being touched in other positions."

His hand moves, feeling braver from your words, rubbing over that fur, still shaky. He loves how furry you feel. It hits him, the wetness on your panties and the pubic hair lower down. It's kind of cold on the underwear, warm and slick lower, on the closed lips. Melty. Slippery. You're furry there too, except in the middle. Maybe that's your inner lips, peeking out. He read that some fit in, some peep out, and he saw one that peeped out, like ruffles, in one of the medical diagrams. The ones in the porn guys passed around were smaller, neater. Less hairy too. But messy—not messy messy, but wilder—is really cool too. They all are. He wants to see all of yours, but that's probably weird, even though it shouldn't be, especially because they are so... nature, wet, warmth. Horniness, sex themselves, if that makes sense.

“Can I—can I feel more?”

'Wanna take my pants off, B?” You smile, rocking up over his hand again. He wants to feel it for hours, feel you moving and him trying to move back how you want. All over him: hands, mouth, face even, dick and balls, thigh, stomach, everywhere. You lift up, wriggle, and you both manage to get them off, him only taking his hand off you when he has to. Re-finding what he hopes is a place he gets to touch and make feel good for a long time. Over and over.

You spread your legs, tilt, opening it up, and his fingers slip through. Even slicker, warmer, softer, but firmer at the same time. He can smell it now too. Fuck. He can't describe it, but it makes his mouth water, arousal flip flop in his belly, his dick get harder. He tries to feel less... needy, by kissing you, touching mostly the regular skin, fur that's thicker than his own. Sometimes sliding through that wetness...

He's seen how male dogs get around a female in heat, wonders now if they smell it too, and how much humans get like that. If men will needily lick women as long as they wants. Males mounting, but usually not actually getting inside, getting stuck. He actually never saw that the few times he saw dogs in heat, but heard that's what happened. Like they only wanted that rarely, didn't want to get stuck. But wanted other things, especially, well, oral sex, throughout their heats.

Males humping frantically, comically, until she moved away somehow, then licking more. One pair would even give face kisses, run around, him licking her, jumping on each other. They got in what he later learned was called 69, her standing over his face, getting licked, a couple times, sometimes both their pelvises humping away, her giving only a couple licks back. He saw one female who mounted as much as the two males who were sniffing around her, licking her, mounting her. One would buck her off, but the other would let her mount and hump away. They'd even lick her at the same time, or lick between them while the other mounted her.

He felt so guilty and fascinated watching, knowing he shouldn't both because of what it was and because it was dogs. Like he was taking advantage by looking. Him even wanting to see and know about how dogs had sex made it and especially him even more sinful. Sensing even back then that he'd so be the dog who'd let her, would want to do anything and everything she wanted, an eager, hyper, needing to please, pliant puppy. That maybe the more playful, easy going males liked being mounted and not just let it happen, and all liked, needed to, lick.


End file.
